Do the Forces of Freedom and Change Suffer from “Jet Lag”?

Abdallah Ali Ibrahim

Summary
(If the Forces of Freedom and Change—FFC—are still devoting themselves to the struggle against the “remnants” of the old regime, they will be marking a revolution that either took place but failed to hit its target, or never truly happened at all. In waging this kind of struggle, the FFC remain on the opposition bank of the “Salvation State,” even though the world around them has changed profoundly.)

One cannot quite tell whether the anniversary of the December 19, 2018 revolution passed for the Forces of Freedom and Change—who once led both the uprising and the state it produced—as an occasion for celebration or for mourning, as though it had never been. It suffices to note that on this very day, groups affiliated with these forces convened around what they called a “Declaration of Principles for Building a New Homeland,” echoing the Quartet’s call to exclude Islamists from the political process after the war ends and to designate them a terrorist organization.

Had the declaration confined itself to the misdeeds of the Islamists during their rule from 1989 to 2019, branding them a terrorist group might have been understandable. Yet it went further, complaining of the Islamists’ continued clout today by demanding the “removal of their elements from the security sector and the dismantling of their entrenchment in state institutions and the economy.” This raises an unavoidable question: what, then, was the glorious December Revolution about? As far as we know, it toppled the Islamist “Salvation” regime and reduced its adherents to scattered remnants. If Islamists still wield such influence within the state, then there must be a profound, concealed flaw in the revolution and the state it produced.

It is precisely this flaw that the Forces of Freedom and Change have needed in order to reinvent the “Kizan” as Sudan’s perennial enemy number one. A sober inventory of their own performance will inevitably bring this flaw to the surface, especially in those arenas where they sought to uproot the Kizan from the state but returned empty-handed.

The Juba Agreement

During the transitional period, the Juba Peace Agreement (October 2020) was signed. It was little more than another iteration of the familiar agreements previously concluded between armed movements and military regimes. In their search for a political base to strengthen their hand against the FFC, the post-revolutionary military leaders produced the Juba Agreement—a political bargain rather than a genuine peace accord—concluded behind the back of the transitional government with the explicit aim of sidelining it through opaque procedures and understandings.

Sidig Tawer, a Sovereignty Council member from the FFC, recently revealed how this alliance was forged: the military members of the Council monopolized the authority to negotiate with armed groups, even bypassing the Council itself, despite the Constitutional Declaration granting it that authority. The result was that the Juba Agreement effectively supplanted the August 2019 Constitutional Declaration; whenever the two conflicted, the agreement prevailed and the constitution was voided.

Moreover, the agreement created the “Council of Partners of the Transitional Period,” dominated by the military and their armed-movement allies, and endowed it with powers that effectively crippled the Cabinet, including oversight of the transition and representation of Sudan abroad. It also postponed the formation of a legislative council until peace was achieved, depriving the transitional government of the civilian legislative body mandated by the Constitutional Declaration. As journalist Jean-Baptiste Gallopin observed, the agreement was embraced simply because it pleased many—“as good news at any price.”

The Eastern Sudan Track

Out of the Juba Agreement emerged the crisis in Eastern Sudan. Its escalation from September to mid-October 2021 proved the final straw that broke the back of the transitional government, culminating in the October 25 coup. Influential groups in the east, notably the Beja Native Administration and Independent Councils, objected to the “Eastern Track” of the Juba Agreement, arguing it had been concluded without their participation and instead with groups that happened to be allied with Darfur armed movements.

Their opposition intensified into road blockades of the Khartoum–Port Sudan highway, Sudan’s vital trade artery. From this position of strength, demands escalated from cancelling the Eastern Track to removing the transitional government altogether. Their leader, Mohamed al-Amin Turk, openly called on the armed forces to intervene against what he derided as the misrule of the FFC—“tiny groups that can be counted on one hand.” This was, as the saying goes, music to the ears of the military, which duly seized power on October 25 while the country’s lifeline remained blocked.

The Dismantling Committee

The Committee for Dismantling the June 30 Regime (1989–2019), established under the Constitutional Declaration, stood at the center of counter-revolutionary attacks. Critics assailed its efforts to expose corruption and confiscate ill-gotten assets, arguing that no confiscation should occur without judicial process. In fact, the committee’s procedures culminated in judicial review. Yet political infighting within the FFC and the military’s refusal to play their leadership role crippled the process. Even within the FFC, some distanced themselves from the committee due to the campaign against it, leaving it preoccupied with defending its own reputation rather than dismantling corruption.

The Communist Party, having broken with the FFC, became an outspoken opponent of the committee, withdrawing its cadres and calling instead for a separate anti-corruption commission—despite the Constitutional Declaration already mandating both bodies for distinct purposes. Around 150 leftist figures echoed this call in September 2021, conspicuously ignoring the dismantling committee altogether. Revolutionary spite, it seems, runs deep.

Justice and the Law

The weakest arena of the transition was justice. Trials of the 1989 coup leaders began in June 2020 but never reached verdicts before the war erupted in April 2023, forcing their release. Legal elites associated with the FFC largely abandoned the proceedings, allowing defense teams to turn them into political trials of the revolution itself. Similar neglect plagued the investigation into the June 3, 2019 sit-in massacre. Its head, Nabil Adib, publicly lamented the lack of resources and political will, which ultimately stalled the investigation until the October 2021 coup shut it down entirely.

The transitional government also failed to adequately honor the martyrs of the revolution and their families, dissolving the existing Martyrs’ Organization without establishing a robust alternative to fulfill that duty.

Education Curricula

Reforming school curricula proved the Achilles’ heel through which counter-revolutionary forces scored an early victory, forcing the removal of Dr. Omar al-Qarai as head of curricula. Though professionally qualified, al-Qarai’s affiliation with the Republican Brotherhood—a movement espousing a modernist interpretation of Islam long vilified by conservative forces—made him a lightning rod. Attacks on him and the proposed curricula reignited entrenched hostilities, making him, ultimately, the right man in the wrong place.

Conclusion

If the FFC remain fixated on battling the “remnants,” they will commemorate a revolution that either failed to achieve its aims or never truly occurred. They continue to oppose a “Salvation State” that has already been overtaken by events, even as Sudan itself has changed dramatically—changes they helped set in motion. Their obsession with yesterday’s enemy makes them resemble travelers stricken with jet lag: their surroundings have shifted time zones, but their internal clocks remain set to the world they left behind.